Realization of transient nature

Sprawled before me, a grove

      Grappling towards the sky, but too thin to blanket it, they sigh against the wind

       Muffled by my own laden breathing

I've spent my time on something.

           I began to travel slow, it is lonely at first,
I move meticulously,

Through all the forests I've known, but never quite
 Traversed alone,

Learning what it means to be transient 

To remain lightfooted, and absorb

Taking in the surroundings, but not enough to leave a footprint
Fleeting, as if staring too long will

Compromise the very allure of the woods
I glide

Like an apparition on desperate fingertips,  lingering above the brush

I've  spent my time observing, picking at the way

The tree roots grow above ground,

As if they were legs that could follow my path,

And briefly, I wished they could,
A breeze tickles down my neck,
A wind that

That knows far too much about time

But all too little about permanence.

Time is fleeting, without regard to lingering stares, even if your eyes are not 

Quite finished reading the landscape.

I began to travel farther,

Going to places I had only heard about in passing, vast depth and vehement waves

Enveloped my mind, 

Each crash akin to my own pulse

Rythmic beating against an unretreating shoreline, unapologetic to the sea.

I began to travel home,

    With the realization that it was just a word

But each step closer, harder to take then the last. Bound by the responsibilities associated with growing up

I began to travel inside,

Exploring places I couldn't seem to find

A vast ocean melded with the forest 

      Pounding against hollow trunks 

I am Submerged and surrounded, 

 A cluster of orange lotuses blur my vision, 

       Dancing around, lively.

The leaves hum my name

I exhale and push the blossoms away, 

Quiet sunset skies, wrapped in gentle purples and blush illuminate the surface

 Broken by the ripples in the water,

Darkness closes over me

Delivering me from wonderland 

I forget to travel,

Usually when I am too busy

           Exsisting 

Sometimes my abiltiy is restricted, bound by the crushing 

Tether of a better life.

One that I can no longer see myself a part of.

I force myself to travel, pick apart the ways in which here and now can change

The key is to never be contented with how much you've seen, but to turn restlessly in the night  with how many ways it can be percieved.